THE PAIN BEHIND THE MASK

A facade of emotions is a mask we wear to deceive others about our true feelings or circumstances.

I confess to the accusations of masking my vulnerabilities and projecting a tough exterior to guard them from the scrutiny of others in this world.

In my youth, the sorrow in my gaze was impossible to conceal, and my smiles were few and far between.

Growing up was tough for me, and I felt a deep sense of unhappiness because I had no outlet to process my emotions.

I stashed them all away, only for them to resurface and cause trouble in my years of adulthood.

I have always struggled with a profound sense of sadness, feeling as though a dark cloud of despair constantly loomed over me, leaving me devoid of any joy or excitement.

School was a breeze for me, with no significant issues. However, despite many people wanting to be my friends, I found myself holding back and unsure how to connect with others.

It all began with my insecurities and distrust, rooted in the betrayal I experienced from my family.

My fear of love consumed me, and I pushed everyone away, convinced that I was unworthy of their affection or attention.

I write this not out of pity or resentment but from a place of peace and release.

To truly convey the impact of my experiences on my personal growth, I must revisit many difficult moments from my past.

By sharing these sad times with you, I hope to provide insight into my emotions and their profound effect on shaping who I am today.

The significance of sharing my story lies in revealing the struggles I overcame to begin living truly.

While I am willing to share my past hardships, the intricate details of the full extent of abuse I endured are too agonising for me to recount. I view it as a deeply personal matter that I can only discuss with a therapist.

In my leavers report, the headmaster at my school described me as ‘reserved,’ and I finally comprehended the depth of his observation.

A ‘reserved’ person is another word for an ‘introverted’ person.

I kept my thoughts and emotions to myself, convinced they were insignificant. In the past, it felt like nobody truly cared about them. I felt lost in finding my words and lacked the self-assurance to speak up when prompted.

I will never forget the times when I was called ‘backward’, but instead of feeling ashamed, I embraced it as a reflection of my own mental and emotional struggles.

It didn’t take long for others to see my unhappiness, as my eyes were always a giveaway.

In my mid-thirties, I started smiling more often, thanks to the encouragement of my coworkers.

My Father’s wise and illuminating words gave me the courage to find my voice and speak with confidence.

Even during a rough day, I had a knack for making others believe everything was fine with me.

I made it a habit to smile at others, knowing that it would be reciprocated. This simple act of spreading positivity helped cultivate a friendly and affable demeanour.

To this day, I still receive compliments about how my smile can light up someone’s day.

The mask I wore crumbled the day my Father lost his battle with cancer. Though I tried to appear strong, my eyes betrayed the pain hidden behind my smile.

The saying that the eyes are the gateway to the soul holds for me, as I still carry a profound sense of loss within me to this day.

Reclaiming the light in my eyes was a journey that took time. However, had I allowed myself to remain trapped in self-pity, I doubt I would have made such significant progress in my spiritual, mental, and emotional development.

After a lifetime of hiding behind a mask, I finally let it disappear. I owned up to my mistakes, refusing to pass the blame onto others, and sought to make things right with those I had wronged.

I found it easy to forgive others because I realised that I am not without fault myself. If God can forgive me, who am I to hold onto grudges for past hurts inflicted by others?

The only excuse I could come up with when I fibbed as a child was to avoid the consequences that inevitably followed. They weren’t precisely lies but hidden truths.

Reflecting on it, I realised I was a good child, possessing all the qualities any parent would desire in their offspring. I always followed the rules, showed respect, and maintained good manners.

Growing up, my sisters and I were taught to be impeccable. My mother could confidently bring us along wherever she went, knowing we would never cause trouble. We were well-mannered and knew how to conduct ourselves, especially when visiting others’ homes — we never ran around or touched anything without permission.

We were well-behaved, respecting our elders and embracing proper etiquette and cleanliness.

The innocence of childhood only seemed to return to us when we were either in the confines of our school or out in the world, exploring and causing mischief with our male cousins.

I embrace that my mother was a perfectionist with high standards, as it has dramatically influenced how I conduct myself and live my life.

The main issues I encountered were the absence of emotions and the rigid structure of the military regime I experienced as a child.

The root of my struggles stemmed from the physical, mental, and emotional torment inflicted upon me by my siblings.

Today, I gained a deeper understanding of postnatal depression and its impact on mothers, as well as the potential consequences that can arise when it is not adequately addressed.

I can never find a reason to excuse the cruelty and abuse I suffered at the hands of others.

There is no excuse for any behaviour that harms a child.

Many individuals do not understand the profound effect this has on someone’s future.

I am grateful that I am now equipped to confront the traumatic experiences of my past and navigate the impact they have had on my future. I wish I had confronted it much earlier in life; perhaps I would have found the happiness I yearned for.

I would never have needed to wear various masks or adopt multiple personas to deceive others.

One of my coworkers made an interesting observation about me — they noticed that I could switch between different personas, revealing various sides of my personality at will.

Today, I no longer need to hide behind a mask of emotions. I confront and process my feelings head-on, even when they seem too much to handle.

I have reached a point where I no longer feel the need to analyse the actions of others, as it holds no significance for me. I now have the power to remove myself from harmful environments that negatively impact my mental health, thanks to my newfound freedom of choice.

Today, I am giving myself the space to embrace my feelings and emotions, allowing them to continue to guide me on my journey of self-discovery.

I have realised that self-pity is a conscious decision that revolves solely around our feelings and experiences. We become so consumed by our actions and the resentment we harbour that we fail to look beyond ourselves, ultimately absolving ourselves of any blame.

Instead of taking responsibility for our actions and choices, we often blame God or our past for the challenges we face and the direction of our lives. This reluctance to acknowledge our role in our struggles hinders our ability to move forward and begin the journey towards healing and recovery.

Despite undergoing numerous therapies, I found it challenging to release the beliefs that I thought were essential to my stability. This remained my reality.

I began to move forward when I understood the importance of reclaiming my power and closing the chapter on my past.

I will never fully erase the memories of trauma, grief, or loss, but I continue to manage my emotions and experiences healthily and constructively.

In everything, there must be a balance

Natalie M Bleau

Scripture of Balance